A splintered edge
by LeighJ11
Summary: Beth Greene is an ice cold bitch but she's also Daryl's boss and he can't stand her, no matter how sexy she is. Worst still, he's going to have to tolerate her much more than he wants to.
1. Chapter 1

**I'M BACK! I got a new laptop and I am about to upload so many pieces, so look out! I plan to edit previously uploaded pieces from my phone, so hopefully, they will soon be perfect and readable. I must be crazy starting a new fic, but here we are. This will be multi fic, but as usual, I don't know how many or where it's going, so bare with me.**

Daryl Dixon has never had a boss like Beth Greene.

He's worked some for shitty, lazy ass people in his life time, going from one shit job to the next with every new town that he moves to, his brother having left him two towns back and then joining up with him again three towns later, as has always been their way. He's had more bosses than he can count in his twenty-five years of working.

Never in all that time has he encountered someone like Beth Greene. Most of his bosses have been men, with the occasional woman thrown in the mix too, but they were all docile and limp, in his opinion, no substance to them, just a machine that ran a business and went home to cats because they devoted so much of their life to their companies, rather than dating.

Daryl's pretty sure Beth is in the same boat since she's at the office before he is and very often, a lot later than he is. He always thought being CEO of the company meant palming off all duties to assistants and the people paid to work for the company, like him. Beth Greene isn't like that though, not at all and he sincerely doubts she goes home to cats.

An empty house, maybe and an empty bed, definitely because if the Ice Queen was getting laid, maybe she wouldn't be such a fucking bitch. _Speak of the devil,_ Daryl thinks as the office falls silent, the usual tell-tale sign that the bitch herself has walked in. His desk is right outside her office, so she has to see him but seeing her round the corner still makes his heart sink.

Because the very worst thing about Beth Greene is how fucking sexy she is.

The bitch knows it too because there hasn't been one day in Daryl's miserable time at this job that he hasn't seen her in some variation of tight skirt or skin hugging dress. Today, it's possible she plans to stop the male population's heart, including his own because she's got that damn skirt on again, the one he didn't get out of his head for a week. A leather white skirt and to pair with it, a deep red and sheer blouse. Underneath, all her skin is on show, if he dares to look hard enough and there doesn't seem to be any qualms from his boss about the material of the shirt because she's wearing a bra made up of ribbons, practically.

The damn thing is a complicated series of black straps, curving over her shoulders and wrapping around her perky little breasts. The fabric wraps around her very edges of her breasts, leaving nothing but a tiny circle to cover her nipples. On her feet and clicking against the floor are two thin black heels, open at the front so he can see her fire engine red toes. To make it all so much damn worse, as if he wasn't already staring at the swell of her ass and the dip of her spine in that fucking skirt, moving on to that flimsy piece of material she calls a bra, her blonde hair is razor sharp, cut to her shoulders and swinging hypnotisingly.

The near silver of the colour is maddening against the red blouse. In contrast, the white skirt is havoc against the bare, golden legs he can see and her bright red lips are fucking stunning paired with her popping blue eyes. She's a whole box of delicious goddamn sin, red and wrapped up and everything, to the point, like practically every morning, Daryl has to take a moment to bite down on his knuckle and look up at her under his lashes.

He's afforded this beautiful moment for a full five seconds as she takes a message from a timid new girl, who has unfortunately not yet learned not to talk to Beth until she swallows down the contents of the Starbucks mug she's carrying. As she wraps it up, the new girl shrinking under Beth's biting voice, Daryl sits up straight and shakes his mouse, trying to look busy.

Typing away, he glances up briefly as Beth comes into view before he stops, giving her his attention when she stops at his desk, just before her own office. "Mornin' B- Ms Greene."

She sniffs, curling her hand tighter over her to go coffee mug and Daryl has to keep his face straight when he sees that her nails are sharp and squared, painted the same red as her toes and her goddamn lips. "I assume you cleared your to do list, Mr Dixon?"

He fumbles, trying not to look unorganised but confused. "S'only nine am Ms Greene. I got in five minutes 'fore you."

Beth sighs like she's dealing with a simpleton and he can't see her feet but he hears the sharp, impatient tap of her heel. "I meant for the weekend, Mr Dixon. I have a business trip on Friday, through to Monday and I left you a to do list. The accommodation and the travel, confirmations of which I was expectin' in my inbox this mornin'. "

He tries not to flush and clears his throat instead. "No, yeah, I gotta chase that up but I did it, 'fore I clocked out last night."

She nods, taking the time to sip her coffee and he squeezes his thigh under his desk when a red lipstick print is left behind on the lid. "Do that, Mr Dixon an' have it to me in the hour. Marylene is due to get back to me about attendin', so be ready to alter the reservation."

"She can't bunk with you? You got the pent house," Daryl says before he can think and then regrets it when she nails him with ice blue eyes lined with thick strokes of black wings.

"Not that I should have to explain, but I meant adding her name to the reservations, not bookin' her another room. The suite had four last time I went."

 _I know, I booked it,_ Daryl snipes in his head but outside he dips his chin. "I'll send her a follow-up email an' I'll have everythin' to you as soon as I'm done."

"In the hour," she reminds him, taking a step away and towards her own office. "I won't be impressed if I have to remind you, Mr Dixon."

He nods again until she's in her office, closing the door behind her and then reappearing a moment later to turn her blinds. He turns his back to her and loads up his computer, which he hasn't yet had the chance to do and scowls at the black screen.

"Name's fuckin' Daryl, _Beth_."

* * *

Hours later, not long back from lunch, he sighs as he finally gets on top of his to do list and then Beth's door flies open behind him and his heart sinks because that always means she's got her panties in a twist and it's either his fault, his problem to fix or both, which never ends well for him.

Gritting his teeth, he looks up as she comes clicking around to his desk and tries to smile, but it feels thin and fake. "Sup?"

"Don't 'sup' me!" Beth snaps, hands on her hips and he feels his balls ache in his trousers. "You booked Marylene for that meeting nearly three weeks ago and didn't put it on the calendar."

Sometimes, he gets clicking and frowns a lot and tries to pretend he cares, but he's already so done with today that he nods. "Sorry."

"Sorry? That's it? Who's gonna come with me to New York on Friday now? Marylene was the only one free!" She fumes, still glaring at him.

He tries not to look anywhere except her eyes, but he's still getting tighter in his pants. What is it about this fucking woman? "Why you gotta take her anyhow?"

Beth huffs and paces as she speaks, hands still on her hips. "I need someone to be the social one. The meetin' is all weekend and they get together on the night to have drinks and such. I don't want that. I want to deal with the meetin' an' move on. I send Marylene to all of them, they know her well now an' they request for her to come."

Daryl shrugs unhelpfully because this woman is so damn unhelpful to his life. "What're you gonna do?"

"Me?" She shouts incredulously, rounding on him again. "Why haven't I fired you yet?" She asks a little more seriously.

He shrugs again. "You did, last week. Twice."

She huffs and paces again. "Should take my own damn advice. No, this is your problem, Dixon, deal with it. You'll have to come with me."

His heart plummets straight to his balls. "Nah, I'll find someone else."

A weekend with Beth Greene? No fucking thank you, his blood pressure can't take it.

"No," Beth snaps and there's a horrible, determined gleam in her eye that made her a fucking CEO in the first place. "You're comin'," she says and nods to herself. "Make the arrangements."

"I gotta fuckin' life, Greene!"

"Language!" She throws over her shoulder as she storms away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Guys, I do have a new piece called** Perfect imperfections **but Fanfiction won't let me upload, saying something about 'spamming' but it will let me upload already posted stories. I've added** Perfect imperfections **to my works on AO3, so if you have that, read it there. I'm under the name** LeighJ **.**

Daryl's day is getting shitter and shitter.

It started with the fucking time he had to get up, a disgusting five am in the damn morning, just to drive over to his boss's apartment complex and pick her up. Apparently, he wasn't allowed the extra hours sleep because Beth Greene was too much of a damn bitch to drive her own car to the airport or even use the fucking chauffeur service she has.

No, Daryl had to crawl out of his warm bed at the crack of dawn to pick her up just because she said so. Because Daryl is her fucking whipping boy and she gets the most sadistic pleasure out of making him do things that make him actually want to shoot himself in the goddamn head. So, his day started shitty and it only got shittier.

She complained about the trash in his car, she complained about the fucking radio like he had any damn choice in the matter since her manicured fingernails were turning the dial. Then she needed to pee, then she needed to order at Starbucks, then half way fucking there, she realised she forgot this one lotion that she just _couldn't_ go without.

By that point, Daryl was descending into a seething cesspit of madness, where his eye twitched as fast as his jaw. When they finally get to the damn plane, she climbs out of the car with a giant, shuddering huff like he's been the despicable one the whole way here. He can't find time to argue though because he spends too long staring at the jet.

He knows Beth is rich, he fucking works for her and crosses the marble floors she had put in the design plans of her own goddamn building. He knows she flies in her private jet because he usually makes all the arrangements and yet, seeing a private jet just waiting for her to climb in to and fly her wherever she wants, makes Daryl stare like a gormless idiot.

He may work in a fancy ass fucking building, being an assistant to a fancy as fuck woman, but it doesn't mean he wasn't raised in a fucking trailer with parents on welfare. This kind of lifestyle is for dreamers and he's about to fly in her private damn jet. He tries to act cool but he's freaking the fuck out and he takes the first drink offered to him.

It's only when he's handed a dinky little flute with a strawberry that he pulls a face and looks over at Beth. "The fuck is this?"

She looks up from her phone, fingers pausing in their rapid clicking and rolls her eyes when she looks at the drink. "Champagne, Daryl. Too much class for you?"

He scowls. "Ain't you got no beer?"

Beth pulls a face and opens up her laptop lid. "Just 'cause I got this damn accent that I can't shake, don't mean I'm some trailer trash bimbo who guzzles shitty beer out of cans. Best you're gonna get is whisky."

Daryl rolls his eyes as he flops into the large chair opposite her and dips his chin in acknowledgement when the stewardess reaches for his glass to swap out his drink. Seconds later, she hands him a glass but he holds up a finger and downs it before he passes it back. "'Nother one of them, keep 'em comin'. Fact, bring the damn bottle, gonna need all the liquor I can get."

The stewardess looks at Beth, who nods her consent before she hustles off. Daryl snorts, waiting for her to bring back his full glass and the bottle. When she leaves, he takes a sip, mulling on his words as he watches his boss tap away at her laptop, her blonde hair swinging forward where it curls at the ends. It's messy today, something he's never seen before and it's a little mesmerising, watching the soft curls sway about her shoulders rather than the sharp style she usually wears it in.

It helps to stare at her hair when he says, "got everyone wrapped around your little finger, huh, Greene?"

"Ms," she corrects, hitting enter sharply on the laptop.

A smile stretches her mouth and he's about to reply with something witty and overall annoying, just to watch her get pissed off when she shrugs out of her white blazer and his tongue rolls into the back of his throat to choke him. How the fuck does she get away with these fucking clothes?

Under the blazer, which she's now folded over the arm of her chair, she's wearing a black, lacy top that clings to her ribs and bare shoulders, showing no hint of bra. Inside, Daryl's heart beat thunders in his fucking fingertips, vibrating the glass he's clenching. Whatever the fuck it's called in the fashion world, it sure as shit ain't no fucking top.

It's practically lingerie, straight out of some slutty sex shop going by the quality of the lace, but knowing Beth it probably cost his monthly wages. As if that wasn't bad enough, her hair is damp and enticing in a way he can't understand, but he definitely understands how he feels about those damn jeans, squeezing her ass and hips.

To top it all off she's wearing heels, thin ones that strap around her ankles and show off her new toenail colour: purple like the colour of her thong, from the peaks he sees of it. Those heels always do him in because it demonstrates her power, her dominance, which she wields over him whenever she can get the chance.

Those heels are the symbol of the domination he wants to break through, dig deep until he feels the submissive core of her. There's no way a woman who craves control as much as Beth doesn't have a secret harboured inside her, a reason why she needs that ice cold mask, which he believes is a cover to the Beth Greene underneath.

In his fantasies, he sees those heels strapped to her feet while he fucks her, watching their bodies meet in a mirror. In his fantasies, those heels are her submission because there's nothing more he wants to do than make this woman submit. The mirror, he needs to show her, remind her, that he's in charge, that's he's the dominate, that's she submits to _him._

God, she's so much fucking sin and she's his goddamn boss, a position that means he will never, ever get to live those fantasies. He'll never be able to gag her, blind her, tie her, ride her for hours until she forgets to keep scowling. Most of the time, he can live with that knowledge, but now he has to spend a whole weekend with her.

An extra two days of seeing her parade around in tight skirts and sexy heels, bare legs shining gold and inviting for his dusky hands to glide over. Her blonde hair swinging, begging for his grasp to keep her still when he feeds her his cock. Those fucking dresses she'll wear when he makes her be 'social' which he absolutely fucking plans to do.

She may be torture and sin, but she's so fucking worth it. Beth turns in her seat to cross her legs and he gets a flash of her nipple through her flimsy top and he forgoes the glass to chug on the bottle, squeezing his eyes closed and hoping that this shitty damn day ends soon and praying that he gets through this weekend relatively sane.


	3. Chapter 3

**I've got to admit, I feel like a bit of a bad ass uploading at half eight in the morning before work. Hope you enjoy! Remember, Wednesdays for** A splintered edge **, Fridays for** Tonight I wanna dance for you **and Sundays for all prompts/requests. As always, thank you guys so much. I would be nothing, nor would I have so much inspiration without your reviews/follows/favourites/kudos/comments/bookmarks. Love you all!**

He's pretty sure he's drunk.

Tipsy, if he's being optimistic, plastered if he's not. Either way, it's getting to be really fucking hard trying to not throw up when the plane jostles in the air and Beth's nails tap away on her laptop, a steady –click-click-tap-click-click-tap- that makes him squeeze his eyes shut and clutch his stomach.

"Maybe you should stop drinking," Beth jibes, glancing up only once from her screen to reprimand him.

Daryl curls up in his chair and turns his face away. She's put on glasses. Fucking glasses. He knows she needs them, he's always listening to her ranting in her office and turning over her fancy chairs trying to find them because she's blind as a goddamn bat if she tries to read, but he barely ever sees her in them.

When he does, it's pure torture because she's usually in a tight skirt or sheer something or other, but now it's even worse because of that damn piece of lingerie that she calls a top. They're not even off the plane yet and he plans to shoot himself with the first damn gun he finds. Anything to blow the image of her like this out of his brain.

"M'fine," he mutters. She hums back at him, having already turned her face back down to her laptop to continue typing. "You gonna be done soon? Shit's so fuckin' annoyin'."

"You don't get to where I am without work, Daryl. I gotta get this done by the dead line an' you're constan' whinin' ain't helpin'."

"Didn't ask to come along, Greene. You dragged my sorry ass."

"Your sorry ass would'a been doin' nothin' this weekend an' so your lovely boss has taken you out to New York. You're welcome."

He snorts, looking longingly at the bottle of whisky he's already half drained but also knowing if he takes one more swig he's going to puke all over her posh carpets. He settles back in his chair instead, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to calm his rolling gut.

* * *

Turns out he falls asleep because Beth's suddenly shaking him awake with a wrinkled brow. "C'mon, we're here."

He groans and heaves to his feet, squeezing his eyes once before he gets ready to start walking. His boss gives him a disapproving look and as they exit the jet, he briefly wonders how far he can really toe the line before he gets fired. It's not exactly standard to get drunk and make an ass of himself in front of his boss, but Beth's different.

She puts up with him because he puts up with her. They both know how long she was looking for an assistant before he came along, ready to put up with her shit. No one stayed longer than two days, struggling to keep up with her demands and her bitchy attitude. Frankly, Daryl can put up with anything and anyone, after so many years with his dad.

His old man is the crankiest, nastiest bastard he's ever met and Beth Greene next to him is a piece of cake, one he would love to taste, but he can't have everything. The jobs challenging, the money's good and he knows Beth throws in bonuses without comment, which makes him think she must know how fucking annoying she is on a nine to five.

Plus, yeah, it's going to play havoc with his dick but coming with her this weekend isn't so bad. All she wants out of him is to be social with the other parties attending the meeting of the night time, where he can drink and eat on her tab and generally not give a fuck. During the day, she's away at the meeting and he's free to do what he wants, in New York City.

Plus, there's the pent house which he can't fucking wait to get to and not just for the scalding hot shower that he's craving either because those beds are nice as fuck. They both pile into the town car he arranged, Beth sliding across the seat as far from him as she can with a wrinkled nose.

He's guessing he stinks of booze, which is another reason for the scalding shower he wants. He loses count of how long they drive until finally, they pull up to their destination. There's more hustle where they get their bags or in Beth's case, two suitcases. He rolls his eyes at them and she huffs at him in return, leading the way inside.

After business is dealt with and they're checked in, they finally enter the suite. Daryl hums at the décor. He booked it and saw the pictures, but being in it for real is a whole new experience. This is probably the fanciest place he's seen, let alone stayed in, sitting in first place while Beth's building falls to second on the list.

It's expensive and there's a lot of shit Beth likes in whites and greens because she hums as she walks around and strokes her fingers over things.

He clears his throat and hoists his bag over his shoulder. "Gonna go find a room, clean up."

She nods, walking through to the kitchen and putting her bag on the counter. "Fine. Nowhere to be 'til tomorrow. You wanna order room service? I didn't have breakfast."

"I'll look when I'm outta the shower," he murmurs, the thought of eating turning his stomach.

She nods and he nods back, wandering down the hall to find a bed with an ensuite. There's four bedrooms, but only two have ensuites, so he snags the nicest one with a little smirk, knowing Beth would have had her eye on it. The whole thing is fancy as fuck, the room and the bathroom nicer than his whole apartment combined.

The bath is glistening white, the shower glass sparkling and everything's marble. Daryl snorts to himself as he trails his fingers over the counter, following the rim of the sink and then pulling them away to inspect his fingers. Not one speck of dust. The toilets clean, the showers clean and the bed smells so damn good.

He didn't really expect there to be any problems, not with how classy this place is, but he was hoping there was a tiny little something he could tease Beth about, since she's OCD and goes ape shit over mess, which is why she nearly had a heart attack when she got in his car this morning.

Daryl represses a grin and strips off, turning the water as hot as he can bare it and stepping in. It's weird as fuck showering in such clean glass and with the mirror running above the counter throwing his reflection back to him too. His shower at home has warped glass and there's only a tiny mirror on the wall, so he barely sees anything but his own face.

Looking back at him now, it's just plain weird to see his own thick arms and dark hair hanging in his face, now it's wet. He turns his face away and carries on with business, washing his body and his face. There's a moment where he debates knocking one out, just to relieve the tension Beth's already put on his shoulders, but he's not really feeling it.

His hand is too mechanical and he's had enough of it, so he doesn't bother. Turning off the hot water, he wraps a towel around himself and grabs another for his hair, rubbing it over his head and standing against the counter to watch what he's doing in the mirror. That's when the knock comes on the bathroom door.

"Daryl? I'm orderin', what'd you want?"

"Said I'd look when I'm out, Greene!" He hollers through the towel.

"Ms," Beth snipes back and he rolls his eyes.

"Fuck off _Ms_ Greene, I'm tryin' to have two fuckin' minutes without you this weekend."

"Stop bein' such a baby," her voice floats back with a sneer. "I'm out all day tomorrow an' Sunday. Now, I'm gonna order, so do you want anythin' or not?"

Daryl scowls at his own reflection. "Wait two goddamn minutes, Beth."

There's silence and he wonders if that's the first time he's ever called her by her first name. He can't really remember and overall, he doesn't care.

After another beat, she clears her throat. "You can order when you're out then, but I'm orderin' now."

Why can't she just let him have two seconds of fucking peace? He storms over to the door and yanks it open, revealing Beth with the hotel phone in one hand and a menu in the other. Her blue eyes are round and huge when he snatches the menu out of her hand, scanning over it quickly and then handing it back.

"Sausage, bacon, eggs an' Oj. Alrite?"

She stares at him and despite how tight her mouth is and how furrowed her brow is, there's a splotch of red on her cheeks, like she's fighting a blush as hard as she can and it's only then that he realises he's still in a towel. Not his fault. He told her he was busy and she fucking wound him up.

Except now he's looking at her nipples again, all on show for him in that flimsy ass top and his mouth's gone dry, his dick hard. There's no way she can't see it, no way she can't tell what she's done and then his face is red too because for all the fantasies he's had of her, embarrassment has never been apart of them and for some reason, it pisses him right off. Bravado rolls into him; ignites in his gut and his throat.

"What? Like what you see, Greene?"

She's flustered, he can see and it's amazing, seeing her like this. Not in control at all, not poised or ice cold. She's hot, her face is blood red, her hands trembling. She's completely out of control, completely out of her element and it makes his heart race in his damn throat, heat everywhere in his body, lighting him up from the inside out.

Finally, Beth clears her throat and those shutters fall into place over her eyes. "Put some damn clothes on, Daryl. I don't know what you think this is, but we're on a business trip. Take as long as you want, but I'm orderin' food an' then I'm goin' to see an old friend, sure you're big 'nough boy to entertain yourself."

He opens his mouth to say something, of what he's not sure, but she strides away and all he's left to look at is her ass in those fucking jeans. He slams the door shut and flicks the shower back on, hustling in and gripping his aching cock with something like violence, pumping and squeezing and fucking his own fist until he cums everywhere. The white fluid swirls down the drain and as he looks up in the mirror, he doesn't recognise the man looking back at him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Just want to say, that I have edited ALL all of my pieces to the best of my abilities, cross-referencing between Fanfiction and AO3, re-reading several times and using Grammarly too, but there's this weird glitch that keeps happening where some paragraphs will repeat themselves and I can't find the root of the problem. I think it's the transfer between the two websites and I've tried to fix it but sometimes it takes a while for me to recognise it because I have to find the time to edit. Besides that, enjoy!**

They eat in perfect silence.

Daryl's actual freaked out a little because Beth's got the most serious, most disgusted scowl he's ever saw on her face and it's making his balls kind of shrivel up into his stomach. She won't speak to him and he hasn't said a word to her, so there's nothing but the click of their knives and forks against their plates.

After that, she takes a long shower and emerges looking like the devil incarnate. He's really starting to think that she does this just to piss him the fuck off because she waltzes out in another weird ass white top with crisscross strings over the tits and a tiny ass denim skirt, frayed along the edges.

The thing that destroys his vital damn organs though, is the thigh high boots she's wearing, that are tight on her golden skin, revealing a patch of flesh between the very short edge of her skirt and the tops of her boots. Daryl clears his throat and keeps scrolling through his phone like he's actually fucking paying attention to it, rather than her.

Out of the corner of his eye, she's in the mirror, gripping her hair and wrapping it into a bun that pulls at her forehead and widens her eyes, leaving but a few baby haired curls to frame her forehead and neck. He swallows tight and coughs again, discreetly pulling one of the throw pillows over his lap to hide his hardening dick.

Beth glances over at him with a squint to her eye. "What?"

"Hmm?" He asks, still looking at his phone with his heart thumping a little irregularly.

"You got summin' to say?" She asks, turning to face him with her hands planted on her hips.

Daryl looks up absentmindedly, trying like hell to act cool. "Huh? Nah, nothin'. You goin' to see an' 'old friend' right?"

Her finger whips out and her eyes narrow even further. "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"The quotation marks you practically damn used when you said, old friend. Spit it out, Daryl. Whatever's on your mind."

He glances up again and actually tries to look into her eyes, but he's pretty sure his own stray down to her top. "Must be a good friend."

Beth scowls and once again he sees that flush break across her face, that beautiful second of haziness in her eye that says she's completely out of her depth, losing her control. "He's a real good friend, actually."

"Oh, I bet he is Greene. I bet he is."

She opens her mouth and then scowls again, snatching her clutch off of the table she put it down on to glance at herself in the mirror. "Don't wait up."

"Have fun!" He hollers.

Daryl grins when she slams the door. "Jerk!"

When he hears her feet stamp off, he clicks his phone off and smiles out of the window at the New York landscape. "Two can play at that game, Greene."

* * *

Daryl Dixon has a lot of respect for women. He was raised practically by his ma, with no help from his shitty father, so all his impressionable life he watched his ma do whatever she could do to get by, to make sure they were fed, clothed, well looked after. Money was tight but she still made sure he and Merle got a magazine and a sweet after school.

From there, he's done nothing but met more amazing women. His school teachers, who were patient with him and helped him learn to read, his high school headmaster, who would force him to do his homework whenever he was sent out of class, just so Daryl could keep a grip on his failing grades.

He's worked construction at four am with women who didn't sleep the night before but still got up, fed their kids and hauled ass to work to keep feeding them. So yeah, he loves women. He's not a player, he doesn't sleep around, frankly, he doesn't find much attraction for a woman, just appreciation, which has always made him a push over in relationships.

Beth's different.

She's sassy and bratty and she brings out things in him he never knew he wanted or particularly craved. She turns him on and makes him hunger for new desires, for ropes and spanking and blindfolds, just to show her who should be in charge. Not to demean her, never for that, but to knock her down a peg or two, watch that perfectness get fucked up.

So, he's never rude to women or about them, but when he glances over at the sleeping brunette beside him, his stomach rolls just a little. He expected blonde hair, he _wanted_ blonde hair, tanned thighs and a juicy ass. The girl next to him has a nice ass too, honestly, there isn't anything wrong with her, just him.

Because her bare legs and slim back makes him roll away from the sunlight with a groan and sit on the edge of the bed. His head kills and he grips it tight, shoving to his feet to go and hunt for something to clear the decaying taste of alcohol from his mouth. Through the door he goes, quiet as he can and then he follows the hall to the kitchen.

It's still and silent, nothing moved and he knows immediately Beth isn't home. The sun's a bright gold, like a shiny penny so it has to be sometime in the early hours, way before nine anyway, which is the time that Beth has her meeting. Which means she stayed out all night. He scoffs to himself and opens the fridge.

As the door opens there's a creak behind him, so he glances over his shoulder with a cartoon of orange juice in hand. "Hey."

The girl he brought home from the bar last night smiles a little shyly and he didn't really remember her face but she's quite cute. Freckles and long lashes, big green eyes and bare lips. She's not wearing makeup, not even remnants of it, so she must not have been last night neither, which is probably why he was attracted to her. Daryl's always preferred a bare face and he's wasted many hours trying to picture Beth's.

He dips his chin at the girl. "S'early. Why you up?"

"Didn't know if you wanted me to stay," she whispers.

Her voice is soft and clear, as clear and open as her skin. She looks young but also she looks innocent, pure in a way that he never sees Beth, in her tight skirts and high heels, puckered mouth and sharp brows. For just a moment, Daryl wonders why he can't find this kind of girl interesting and why instead, he's comparing her to his boss.

Speak of the devil.

The minute his mouth opens, the front door card reader beeps and Beth saunters in, still in yesterday's clothes but walking like it doesn't faze her and Daryl's brow raises as she glances down first at the lacy bra littering the floor and then her eyes climb up, to him and the girl from the bar in the kitchen.

Wearing nothing but his shirt.

"Walk of shame, huh?"

She ignores him, turning piercing, alert business eyes on his date from last night. "Why are you here with my boyfriend?"

" _What?_ " The word is a ringing echo because both Daryl and the girl say it at the same time.

"Beth, the fuck?" He turns to his boss to tell her to pack it the hell in but finds her crying.

Actually crying real fucking tears as she turns to him and says, "Daryl, I can't believe you would do this again. How many times do I have to forgive you!?"

"Greene!"

He turns to the girl and his face meets her palm, a ringing slap on his cheek that turns his head to the side. As Daryl lifts his face and looks at Beth, she smirks at him and then her chin wobbles when she turns back to the other women. "I'm so sorry he's done this to you too!"

"No, I'm sorry!" The girl hollers back, rushing around the room collecting her clothes. "Sorry I ever went home with such a pig!"

All of the sudden the commotions gone, sucking out the sound as the woman leaves, slamming the hotel door behind her. Daryl turns to Beth with his hand still pressed to his face. "The hell!?"

She shrugs, wiping at her cheeks. "You brought a girl back to my suite. Don't forget this is business, Daryl. This is _work_. You're lucky I didn't fire you."

"You stayed out all night shaggin' some 'old friend'!"

Beth was walking away but now she whips back to face him. "Don't talk 'bout my personal affairs when it's none of your damn business!"

"Don't come an' mess with mine!" Daryl shouts back.

"You're a damn child!"

"An' you're a spoilt brat, princess, but you don't see me flippin' my shit!"

"Ugh! You're infuriatin'! Go home!"

Daryl snorts. "You need me, Greene. Go to work."

Beth flounders before she huffs and stomps away.

 **So, guys, I'm going AWOL. Kinda. I will upload tiwdfy on Friday and the prompts on Sunday, but after that, I'm taking a break. It's really challenging working every day, making sure the ASE chapter is ready for Wednesday, getting the tiwdfy chapter written in two days and making sure it's ready for Friday, to then have to make sure the prompts are written and again, uploaded in two days. It's got to the point where I'm stressing over my writing like 'gotta write that' and 'gotta upload this' and I don't want to feel like that. Writing is fun and something I enjoy on the side, but I need the time in between work to see my partner and family, whereas I'm coming home and sitting straight on another computer after all day at work, for hours at a time. So yeah, sorry for the life story, but I hope you guys understand and I promise I won't be gone long. Thank you as always, you guys are the best 3**


	5. Chapter 5

He's pretty sure it's revenge.

Ice cold, just like her.

Beth stormed in from her meeting three hours ago, scowl twisting her pretty pink mouth every time she looked over at him. All through dinner she gave him the stink eye and he just let her, heartedly sipping on his whisky and praying the night would hurry up and be over.

Now the bitch is up to her old tricks with her favourite form of torture: her clothes. Near two goddamn hours were spent on her hair and makeup which damn, okay, he won't complain about because she looks fucking hot. He's never seen her wearing colours like this.

Usually it's all bubble-gum pinks and if the mood strikes her, dark reds. Tonight she's pulling out all the stops, just to make his heart explode, he's damn sure of it. Thick black eyeliner and smoky eyes, some weird mash up of purple and red on her lips, all blended in and shit so the purple bleeds into the red.

He don't know fuck all about makeup but that shit is mesmerising and if her lips weren't big enough as they were, they're all plump and pouty now.

But her makeup ain't shit on what she's wearing. First it was the see through long sleeved black top so he could see that she had no damn bra on, all tucked in to some white skirt way higher than her knees and golden bare legs, strappy little heels wrapped around her slim ankles.

That one outfit had his heart pounding behind his fucking eyelids, hands clenched in the cushion beside him trying to act all unfazed, like his cock wasn't at war with his damn zipper. The second outfit was some weird ass fucking jumpsuit thing, plunging so far down her front he could nearly see her damn belly button and Jesus the view of her tits was amazing.

He won't even talk about what it did to her ass, shit. Now they're seven excruciating outfits in and there's a sweat on Daryl's collar that's agitating the fucking life out of him. For the hundredth time tonight, the handle on Beth's door clicks open and she steps out, knocking every particle of air from his body.

God.

Fucking.

Damn.

She's wearing a second skin. Deep red skin that stretches so tight over her body he can see the outline of her hips, her nipples, her thighs. The whole thing is flimsy looking and his fingers flex and clench restlessly.

He wants to tear it off her. He wants to devour her. It makes everything pound and ache and before he knows it he's surging to his feet, restless and full of energy. Energy he wants to pour into fucking the daylights out of his boss.

She was looking down at her strappy feet but now she looks up at him and his throat closes so damn tight he hopes she doesn't ask him how she looks because he can't remember how to goddamn speak.

Fuck.

Why does she do this to him?

"Can't believe you're makin' me go. What's the point of you comin'?" She scowls at him.

Daryl feels reset, like she's forced his head back into the bickering, snarky part. "'Cause I don't know no one down there an' you ain't throwin' me to the sharks."

She rolls her eyes. "Remind me never to bring you along again."

"No problem with me princess," he mutters, restless on his feet.

"Ready?" She asks breathlessly, like she can't breathe and suddenly he's back to dirty thoughts, so alive they're seething through his skin and he can only imagine how thankful she would be if he tore that material off of her.

"Yeah," he says hoarsely before he coughs and covers it up.

He wants to make a remark about how long she took to get ready just to stop thinking about that dress giving under his hands, but he can't think of a damn word.

"C'mon then, let's get this over with."

* * *

The next night, Daryl stands alone, rolling his neck on his shoulders as the elevator climbs towards the pent house, his skin itchy and agitated, fed up of these damn suits he has to keep wearing. Beth sent him out on his own tonight since she got so drunk last night she's spent the day curled up on the sofa.

She just about made it through the meeting this morning and Daryl has to admit, he got a kick seeing her groaning and sweating.

He did take pity on her though, made sure she had food and water before he left, turned the heating off even though he's gonna fucking freeze, but she was too hot.

He's so damn glad this whole weekend is nearly over. In the morning, him and Beth are gonna make their way back home and he can go back to hating his boss in not so close quarters.

The doors slide open on the elevator and he steps out, pulling the key card out of his pocket and sliding it into the door. The reader beeps and he steps in quietly, squinting in the semi-darkness. The lamp is the only light beside Beth, the TV off now too by automatic timer he's sure since she would have fallen asleep first.

He swallows as he nears her sleeping form.

The blanket is all around her waist, fucked up and probably real uncomfortable. He should sort it, he knows this but he's struck dumb by the sight of her. He's never seen her sleeping before.

Her face's slack, her mouth soft and there's some kind of vulnerability to her relaxed brow that makes Daryl's heart pound. He's so caught up in her face it takes him a second to notice what she's wearing.

Sweats, no socks and a little crop top thing made up of black lace, which is her favourite damn thing to wear. He licks his lips, watching her chest rise and fall. He knows he shouldn't, he really fucking shouldn't but his fingers trace the air above her thighs and chest before they reach back up to her face and make contact to stroke her cheekbone.

After that he pulls the blanket up and goes to bed, refusing to think about anything he just did or its meaning, climbing instead into his bed and giving in to the sleep he's craving.

* * *

"Enjoy yourself last night?"

Daryl chokes and spits out his OJ, coughing and eyes watering. "Huh?"

Ain't no damn way she knows he stroked her cheek, no way.

She raises her eyebrow at him. "The restaurant? The place I sent you to as my representative? God, don't tell me you got drunk."

Daryl rolls his eyes. "Didn't get drunk, an' like you can talk anyhow."

Beth flushes and sips on her coffee. "I can handle my drink."

He snorts, thinking about how she nearly fell over in the elevator Saturday night. "Uh-huh."

She clears her throat and wipes at her mouth with some dainty napkin then levels him with a look that turns his insides because he knows it's gonna be bad news.

"Spit it out, Greene," he grates through his teeth.

"Ms," she corrects, like damn autopilot.

"You're not gonna like what I've gotta say."

"I never do," he mutters, throwing his toast back on his plate, appetite lost.

She clears her throat again and he rolls his eyes, tapping his fingers against the table with an agitated rhythm.

Finally, she says, "I've been asked to stay for another night."

He scowls, pushing out his chair. "An' you're gonna force me to stay too, huh?"

She shrugs, her night gown slipping off one shoulder and revealing a bare shoulder.

Daryl's balls ache.

"You don't have to stay. There's one more meetin' and then I fly home tomorrow mornin' 'cause the meetin' ends late. No more socialising to do. Your jobs done."

He waits for the punchline but it doesn't come, much like the thank you he deserves but won't get. "Why ain't I gonna like it?"

Beth purses her bottom lip and looks out the windows at New York. "I would prefer if you stayed."

He raises his eyebrow and settles back into his chair. "Why?"

"'Cause I'm your boss an' I would."

"Liar," he answers, a little cocky. "You want me to stay."

Her cheeks flush red and she shoots from her chair to stand before the windows. "Don't get ahead of yourself," she throws over her shoulder but she won't look at him.

Daryl gets up from his chair and walks behind her, heart jack hammering in his fucking chest. Why won't she say it? Why's she gotta have this damn wall up all the time? It's not like he thinks she cares about him, she just don't wanna be lonely, but why ain't she woman enough to admit that?

He crowds closer, trying to pull down these stupid fucking walls she lives behind, his hand reaching towards the glass in front of her, caging her in.

Beth gasps and squeezes as close as she can to the window. "What're you doin'?" She whispers.

He doesn't answer, cock flagging so hard in his sweats it hurts. Her night gown is still hanging off one shoulder and standing behind her, being taller, he can see her nipples standing against the silk fabric. He swallows in her ear and she whips around, chest and face flushed red.

"Daryl, step back," she orders vehemently, but her voice shakes and his stomach clutches when he notices. "This is highly unprofessional," she tries again, her voice rising high and loud.

He's so damn close he can see every individual eyelash, slicked with mascara. Why is it before he even cracks open an eyelid this woman has done her makeup? His other hand comes up to the window beside her head, completely caging her in. He knows women like Beth.

Control so tight in their grasp, so stubborn they can't ask for what they need, but demand something else entirely, something that ain't gonna scratch the itch they got.

"Jus' say you want me to stay, Beth. Not 'cause I'm your damn assistant, not 'cause I work for you. Jus' tell me you want me to stay."

He can see her pulse and it's pounding in her throat. He's fucking entranced, his stomach rolling that he's gonna get fired again but every cell in his damn body telling him that he needs this woman. He needs to show her what he can be, what they can be, how good he can make her feel, how he can unravel her.

His hand comes down from the window and he hesitates but her eyes are so dilated he don't think he's gonna get in trouble when he gently wraps his hand around her throat and presses his thumb into her pulse. She gasps and it goes straight to his goddamn balls.

In a rush, she half moans, "I want you to stay."


	6. Chapter 6

**SECOND TO LAST CHAPTER PEOPLE, I REPEAT: SECOND TO LAST CHAPTER! How did we get here!?**

Daryl inhales deeply through his nose and tries to calm the fuck down, but he's finding it real damn hard. One: he didn't expect this. For all his fantasies and depraved thoughts, he didn't actually think she would give in like this, so _easily_ too, like she's been holding back. And two: when he inhales, he gets a heady, intoxicating whiff of her scent and he has to clench his jaw to stop himself from tearing that little slip of a nightgown from her body.

Lost in indecision, knowing he can't flounder now or she'll never, ever give in like this again, his fingers flex and tighten around her throat, his thumb digging into her pulse as his fingers tangle with the baby hairs brushing her spine. God, her _eyes._ They're yawning wide, her pulse pounding like a drum beat beneath the pad of his thumb.

For all the things he's thought about doing to her, it's like he's gone blank.

He can't decide what to do first. He wants everything. He wants to taste her cunt. He wants her to get on her knees to suck his cock until he floods cum down her throat and watches it spill out of her pretty mouth, down her skin and to her chest. He wants to fuck her against this goddamn glass.

 _Yeah._

He wants to fuck her where everyone can see, test her.

His hand is still wrapped around her throat and she still hasn't said a word, mute and wide-eyed, waiting for him. Jesus. His balls fucking ache just looking at her but he can't resist leaning forward and running his lower lip over hers, just to see her reaction. Beth shudders, her hands reaching up to touch him -he can see from the corner of his eye- until she lets them drop back down, pressing the flat of her palms to the floor to ceiling window behind her, the hustle and bustle of New York beneath.

He swallows and he isn't gonna pretend like his voice isn't gravelly when he whispers, "put your hands over your head."

His own hand is still on her throat and more than any words she could speak her body tells him how excited this makes her, how eager she is to do it, but she hesitates.

"Beth," he grinds between his teeth.

Her chest is heaving already and watching her nipples peak against the silk of her gown makes his cock rage for freedom.

"Do as you're told or I walk."

Her face, for an instant, is agonised and he sees her nails clench into the glass like she can use it for support but her hands slide right down it because there is no support, not for her, not for him.

They're in free fall.

Shaking, Beth raises her hands up, avoiding touching him in any way and places them against the glass. It stretches her body, arches her back and he hisses when he feels her body against his, only a small brush but _God,_ he's fucking burning for her.

He nods, trying to control his own breathing, temper down his own lust to get her exactly where he needs her: raw, open, vulnerable. "Good girl."

His.

Daryl's hand moves from her throat, parting with a few strokes of his thumb before he climbs her face, pressing his fingers against her flesh and feeling the heat in her cheeks. Her eyes slip closed when he ghosts over the lids, rising up over her brow and hairline until his fingers tangle into her hair. She gasps when he pulls at the crown of her head, tilting her head far back, her hands still up against the window. Just as he's descending to her throat, mouth watering at her scent, she talks for the first time.

Her voice is shaky and high. "Daryl, we're gonna be seen."

"I know."

She gasps as if only just realising the intention he has for her against this window and recoils from him before his lips meet her pulse, her little, hot hands pressing to his chest and pushing him away.

"No Daryl, this has gone too far. I-I dunno what I was thinkin', th- Daryl!"

He grins into her throat, his arms burning as they stretch high, his hands wrapped around her wrists where he just slammed them against the window.

"Don't – move."

His thumbs press into the pulse points on her wrists and she stops struggling, breathing hard and fast like a racehorse.

"Daryl I- I _can't_ ," she whispers desperately like she needs him to understand.

"You can," he corrects her. "I got you. Jus' relax and do as you're told."

She swallows audibly and he grits his teeth, flexing his jaw because he can make her throat work like that when he chokes her with his cock. This _first,_ then he'll… then he'll… God, he don't fucking know, he'll work it out as he goes along. Right now, he needs his mouth on her throat more than he needs to breathe. Pressing his lips to her pounding pulse, his hips settle between her spread thighs which he manages only because he's slid her a couple of inches up the window.

He groans into her skin, his hands tightening around her wrists against the cold glass, the feel of her hot, bare legs searing him through his sweats and straight to his cock, churning him inside out.

Fucking woman was sent to earth to destroy him.

Her breath is hitching as he glides down her neck with open-mouthed kisses, pressing her harder into the window and trying to absorb all her heat, curl her tiny little body into his. He can't believe his damn luck and yet with the thought, Beth strains against his hands.

"I can't relax, Daryl, please. I can't do it here, I can't do _it._ "

Daryl keeps his lips to her neck and ignores her. He knows for a fucking fact that's not how she feels. Her heart is pounding in her chest, knocking against his and the pulse in her wrists tells him everything he needs to know. Her little body is hot and pliant like dough beneath him, her pupils dilated and breaths scattered.

If she honestly meant it, he would stop in a goddamn heartbeat, but she doesn't. She needs to be pushed, she needs to be opened up and that ain't gonna happen if she keeps fighting him and the uncertainty she can't cope with. She _hates_ being out of control, that's damn apparent but he knows how to help her accept it.

"You want me to stop?" He whispers into the hollow of her throat.

Beth swallows, hesitates. She stretches on her toes but he clamps her wrists even tighter. "You ain't toppin' from the bottom, girl. These are my damn rules an' you're gonna follow 'em."

She rolls her hips, changing tactics. "I don't wanna stop, I swear. I jus' wanna move. Jus' to the sofa or the table. Let's just move, I'll do anythin'," she gasps.

He hums, lips ghosting to her collarbones and she tries to strain but all his weight is on her and she can't. She can't move a damn inch because he's so heavy on her and she pants with the effort, hands fisting into balls of annoyance.

"Relax." He presses the word into her skin. "You're stayin' here, now quit it."

She lets out a mewl, like she can't decide if she loves or hates this decision.

"An' girl?" He murmurs.

She hums, body taut as a violin string.

"You're gonna do anythin' I tell you to."

Beth gasps and Daryl grins, following from her collarbones to the swell of her tits. She moans softly, excitement so tangible he can taste it on her goddamn skin. He nuzzles into her gown and the silk parts like her thighs are gonna in less than a minute, his mouth meeting bare, hot flesh.

He hisses and when he glances up at Beth she's wearing a hot little smirk on her face, eyes blazing with the renewed sense of control she thinks she's gained by making his dick jump against her leg.

"You were naked all that time? Sat 'cross from me, eatin' your damn breakfast?" He snarls.

She flexes her back, pushing her tits high and proud, her right nipple brushing the hairs of his stubble. It makes her shiver so hard he watches it travel from the crown of her golden head all the way down her stunning body to her nipples which tighten into sharp little fucking diamonds. His mouth waters and he wants to suck on them so bad it makes his back teeth goddamn ache but then she gets what she wants.

She tops from the bottom and that ain't how he operates. Squeezing her wrists until she hisses, he shakes her a little, swapping both wrists to one hand so he can flip up her nightgown and slap her juicy ass. She cries out, eyes yawning wide before they shrink to pinpoints, mouth parted and lower lip slick with saliva, her breaths blowing out of her throat and her chest gallivanting against his own.

"Answer me."

" _Yes_ ," she practically sobs.

Her nipples get even harder where they rub his chin, still bent down as he waits for her to fix the fuck up so he can suck them.

"How many times you ate your damn toast with your bare pussy on display for me? What if I decided to look under the goddamn table?"

This excites her. Her eyes light up and he holds it in mind, that she gets off on that, the thought of him catching her naked, noticing her slick pussy. She likes being caught, she likes the thought of being caught, of being exposed. That's why he knows how much she likes being up this window.

"You know this place was made for you?" He asks from where he still looks up at her, right between her tits.

"Yeah?" She breathes. "How so?"

"A whole wall of floor to ceilin' windows made for fuckin' Beth Greene."

Her eyes slide closed and he's almost sure she's gonna fucking faint her pulse races so fast. With her distracted, it's the perfect moment to throw her off the edge she's balancing on and he bends to her nipple, sucking it into his mouth before he sharply bites on the tight nub. Beth lets out a little scream, her body jerking and slamming against the glass.

"Daryl!"

"Don't ever think I don't know who you are, Beth. I know who's playin' hide an' seek 'hind all those tight dresses an' goddamn diamon' necklaces."

He stretches back up to her ear, pausing as her hips strain against his, seeking friction against the pussy he goddamn knows he's made drip.

" A little slut, Beth."

The sound she makes is a mutilated shocked, insulted gasp and a moan. Everything she is in one sound. The controlled CEO versus the woman inside, underfed and malnourished, desperate to soak up the submission he can give her, desperate to just let go.

"You can't… you can't _say_ that," she whispers throatily.

"Why?" He asks, going back to her tits, biting sharply at her left nipple.

"'Cause s'rude," she squeaks.

"S'true."

"No."

"Beth," he warns. "Stop. You wanna be spanked 'gain?"

She swallows and shakes her head but there's a twitch to her chin like she stopped a nod at the last minute.

"Liar."

He spanks her hard, three times in a row just because he likes the breathy little cry she makes when he does it.

"Tell the truth."

"I wanna be spanked," she says quickly like she thinks it's shameful. "It makes my cunt pound."

Daryl grits his teeth against the urge to thrust his aching cock against her. "Good girl. What's that makes you?"

She frowns, puzzled, eyes opening and searching his for the answer. He stares back at her, squeezing her ass in his hand just because he wants to and because he can. "A slut," she whispers.

He half smiles at her, trying to force it back but failing so goddamn hard with her juicy ass filling out his palm.

"Tell me what you want me to do," he encourages.

She swallows again, lifting her hips. "I want you to fuck me."

"Where?"

"Here."

"Where's here?"

"Against the window."

"Why?"

" _Daryl_ ," she groans, rolling her head back. "Please!"

"Tell me," he demands.

She groans again and rolls her hips against the air. "'Cause I'm a slut."

They both know that's not the right answer. The real reason is that she wants to be caught. Because the thought of someone looking out of their window and seeing them fucking makes her so wet she can't stand it and the thought of someone from the ground below looking up and seeing his cock sinking into her pussy thrills the fuck out of her. Thing is, it's her first time and as much as he wants to break her and put her back together, he can't push too hard because she'll freak and the walls will be reinforced with fucking titanium.

He won't get another chance like this. He has to show her, he has to make her crave it so she'll always, always come back to him. His hand stays clamped on her wrists but the one grabbing her ass slides down, his knees bending so he can lift her on his forearm and support her. She gasps, hands flexing because she wants to wrap her arms around his neck but then she falls back against the window because she can't.

Supporting her ass, he presses his cock in between her spread legs, her nightgown flapping open against her sides. Her hot cunt burns his dick straight through his fucking sweatpants and he can't stop the groan when his dick twitches. He keeps her up with his body as he shoves the front of his pants down, gripping his cock and rubbing against her pussy.

They hiss simultaneously.

Her pussy is so fucking hot, so wet, his eyes roll into the back of his head as it falls into her shoulder.

" _Jesus,"_ he grunts.

"Oh God," Beth mumurs softly. "Please fuck me, please."

Begging already; didn't even have to make her. She's catching on so damn quick, she deserves how damn hard he's gonna fuck her. He hums against her skin, nuzzling her shoulder with his lips and stubble, waiting to see if she's gonna try and force it so he'll spank her or if she'll be a good girl and wait. He's not sure what the fuck he wants more, but she's such a damn good girl and she keeps still, breath stuttering in anticipation and then catching on a scream when he plunges into her. Jesus. Fucking. Christ. He's about to meet the lucky son of a bitch because he just found heaven.

Maybe it's hell though because she's hot like fire and God he's gonna sin so damn hard with this woman. There's a million thoughts firing in his goddamn brain as it tries to connect with his fucking body and work again. All the things he's gonna do with this hot little piece of fucking ass. He's gonna destroy her for every goddamn man on the planet just so he can bury himself in her beautiful cunt again. He whines something fucking pathetic against her throat and she moans back, hips twitching as she tries to force him to move but his weight is too much on her to allow it.

He releases her wrists but she keeps them there, _Jesus_ and reaches down to her thighs, shoving his arms under them and holding her tight, forcing her hips to tilt back so he glides deeper into her. Beth cries out, head thumping against the glass, legs shaking in his arms, chest thrust out and nipples so goddamn hard he just has to bite them.

"I can't, I can't, I can't," Beth chants. "God I can't, I'm gonna cum, it's too much!" She sobs, her arms swinging down and digging into his shoulders.

"Beth!" He shouts hoarsely. "Get your fuckin' arms back!"

"It's too much!" She cries.

He growls and rips his hands out from her thighs. They wrap around her waist automatically as he rags at her nightgown, tearing it down her body and tying it hastily around her wrists so her arms are strained back, her shoulders angled sharply towards him and arms strained. He's scared for a second she's hurting but then he sees her face and _fuck_. This ain't never gonna stop. He ain't ever gonna stop fucking her if she's gonna look at him like that. Not fucking ever. He growls and rags her arms for good measure, reaching back to her thighs and shoving his arms under them.

When they fall back into his elbows, he leans forward and slams his palms against the window, spreading her wide. Beth screams with glee, back sliding down the glass and ass not even supported as he slides in and out of her. Jesus God, he ain't gonna last. Shit. He's gotta make her cum first. She's nearly there. He just needs one, just one and he'll give in, he'll allow it. He plunges in again, fingers clenching against the cold window and nails scrabbling like Beth's did.

She moans desperately, the sound of their skin meeting and her ass slapping against the glass driving him so goddamn insane he's fucking terrified he's gonna bust his nut before he can give her what she needs, her pussy so damn tight on his cock he's sweating. Beth throws her head back repeatedly against the glass, screaming out without one damn worry someones gonna hear her. He fucking loves that. He loves how much she loves being fucked by him. How much she likes it when he pulls nearly all the way out and then slams so deep into her he feels her walls flutter on the edge of orgasm.

"C'mon girl," he pants. " _C'mon_."

She lifts her head up, eyes wild and desperately thunks it back again, trying to hump her hips with his. "I wanna touch you. I wanna scratch you an' bite you an' fucking rip you to shreds," she pants.

God, he can't take it.

He can't fucking take it.

"Next time," he promises.

He slams into her harder, her pussy so wet it's a fucking breeze, a goddamn cakewalk. He glides over and over again, his gut burning and his body sweating, his balls drawing up tighter and his cock being squeezed by Beth's pussy.

"I'm gonna cum, oh my _unh_ god, oh my god, oh my god! _Unh_!"

"Come," he encourages, fingers so fucking tight on the window. " _Now_."

God, she's good. On command, her cunt clutches his cock and he's gone, he's so fucking gone, throat tight and painful, voice hoarse when he lets loose a long string of goddamn nonsense, spilling into her pussy and again and again and a-fucking-gain as she milks him with her own orgasm, screaming so loud he's sure someones gonna call the fucking security guard.

When she's spent she collapses, all strings cut. He nearly drops himself but he's gotta keep her up and it keeps his body strong, his arms gripping her ass tight as he pulls her away from the window and stumbles blindly to the sofa, dropping down on his ass and bringing her tumbling down into his lap, cum dribbling down her thighs to his, sticky and hot.

Their chests throw themselves against each other, their breath mixing together until Beth groans, rolling her head against his shoulder.

"I still gotta go work. The meetin'," she slurs.

Her voice is hoarse like she's sick but when she pulls back to look at him her eyes are bright and alive, her cheeks as flushed as her chest.

"Call in sick. You're the boss."

"Exactly," she moans. "Ain't no chance I'll get away with it."

He hums because honestly, he's a little fucking thrown by how different this woman is after she's been fucked. So relaxed. It's fucking addicting, all he wants is to keep putting this look on her face.

"Go then, an' when you get back we'll go get dinner."

She smiles softly, stroking her fingers through his hair. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He grins and only wider as she swallow at –presumably- the excited look in his eye. "Don't think I didn't hear your little speech. You're gonna get what you want Greene, you always do."


	7. Chapter 7

**Guys, I should have really, really waited before I posted this. I couldn't contain my excitement though because honestly, I've never written so much fucking filth! I can't believe we've reached the end of the road. All I can say is thank you so much for sticking with me on this ride and coming the whole way! I would not write another word if I didn't have you guys cheering me the whole goddamn way. Here's to the end of ASE and the start of big, exciting projects to come!**

"You ready Mr. Dixon?"

He looks up with a raised eyebrow, ready to spank Beth's ass for her sassy remark when his eyes land on the goddess before him.

"Fuck," he breathes.

She glances in the mirror like his opinion don't mean fuck all, but he can see her smug little smile. Sexy bitch. The fact that her clothes are nothing like she usually wears somehow makes her so much fucking sexier. Rips ride her jeans all the way up her thighs, showing mouth watering patches of golden skin until they end high on her hips, cupping her peachy ass and little waist. Daryl's mouth goddamn floods as he follows the trail up, caught in fascination by the baring of her toned stomach.

He fucked her practically bare this morning, so how the fuck didn't he notice how fit this woman is? Her stomach's tight and adorned with a pretty little flower metal bar through the belly button, which he's never seen before and she must have put in just now. Daryl's teeth grind, imagining biting down on that piercing and tugging, wondering if she has anymore. Up his eyes carry on, staring at the knot of her white t-shirt and her nipples tight against the cotton, apparently having gone without a bra the fucking tease.

Her face isn't as heavily covered in makeup as it usually is, but her lips are an entrancing cherry red, even if her eyes are bare of any kind of shadows or that damn eyeliner she likes. His eyes fall back to her feet again, just to enjoy the pleasure of sweeping over her and spy her toes bared in her black heels. They're blue today and he has a random ass thought about when she would have painted them. He wants her already and they haven't even made it out of the goddamn door.

"Good 'nough to eat," he whispers.

From across the room, she hears him and he watches her eyes flutter closed in front of the mirror, her cheeks red. God, he's gotta fuck her in front of a mirror before the night's over. He stands and she turns to face him, her eyes wicked as she takes him in, all the way from his shoes to his head, obviously enjoying the suit he's crammed himself into.

"Not bad," she says offhandedly.

He smirks because he can see how much she's trying to repress her heaving chest.

"Y'ready?"

She nods and walks towards him, reaching out her hand to his arm when he shoves her to her knees. She goes down, her bag sliding off her shoulder and clattering against the floor. She doesn't even have time to gasp before he's tilted her head up by his hand under her chin, gritting his teeth down at her.

"Y'gonna have to do somethin' for me 'fore we go."

"What?" She asks innocently like she ain't got a goddamn clue.

"Suck my cock," he murmurs low. " _Boss."_

"Daryl…" Beth starts to reprimand him, but he clucks her on the chin.

Jerking his own, he mutters, "now, Beth."

She swallows, reaching her hands forward to quickly undo his belt, yanking his trousers apart and pushing her way inside to pull his dick free. It springs out, the air on the hot pre-cum and flesh making him hiss. He's so damn hard it looks as achy as it feels, raw and near damn purple for her.

"C'mon."

She licks her lips hungrily and glances up at him with a coy smile. "Dessert first? S'not how winin' an' dinin' works, Mr. Dixon."

"For thinkin' you're in control, I'm gonna take it away from ya."

Her eyes widen and fall down to his cock again, her mouth gaping when he tugs on her chin and pull her slick lips apart. Her breath is hot on his dick and makes his ball draw up. Damn, this ain't gonna take long. He wanted to savour it too, but it ain't like he ain't gonna make her do this again, real fucking soon.

"Watch me take it all away from you."

She groans just at the moment the head of his cock touches her tongue, the vibration riding him so hard he feels it in his teeth. He shoves in further, hitting the back of her throat on the first try, Beth's fingernails scrabbling at his bare hips. Groaning deeply, his head falls down between his shoulders. He's gotta make her do that to every part of him. His back, his arms, his thighs, his stomach. He wants her bites and scratches and destruction scarred on his body for the rest of his goddamn life. Daryl breathes through his nose, hands reaching into her tight, professional bun neatly tied at the base of her head.

It makes him grin to see his fingers fucking it all up, pulling elastic loose and releasing wild curls that, because it's so short, shrivel up to her chin in thick chunks bracketing her brows. A damn near perfect representation of them. Her: neat as a fucking pin; uptight, and him: messy, large and loud, coming into her world and blowing it apart, just as much as she's fucking up his. Both his hands curl in her hair and with a wicked grin on his face, he makes good on his word, using Beth's gaping mouth and the force he has on her head to fuck her throat, his cock gliding over her tongue and coming out glistening.

Fuck, yes.

His breath turns shallow watching salvia dribble out of her mouth, flooding over the head of his cock. He brushes his dick over the inner curves of her cheeks, pumping his hips as he angles her head exactly how he wants it, plunging over and over into her mouth, her throat opening and closing like the flutter of her pussy. He groans long and low as he squeezes his eyes shut, knees bending as he fucks her faster, spurred on by her excited panting.

He's so damn close already but she sends him hurtling over the fucking edge when she hums on his dick, hands reaching around to squeeze his ass, her fingernails biting into his flesh so fucking hard it stings. He curses blindly, hot white light sharp as a goddamn needle in his balls, flooding liquid hot lava straight into Beth's waiting mouth. She makes a noise of surprise, caught off guard and choking for it, pulling away from his cock so that a thick runner of cum and drool hangs in a long, sticky line from her bottom lip to the head of his cock.

He thinks he's spent until he looks down and sees her red lipstick imprint on his dick. His cock jerks and spasms, spurting cum that arches and lands across Beth's cheek in a creamy white line. Her eyes fly up to his and electric sizzles down his whole fucking spine. Panting, he reaches forward and swipes his cum from her flesh, scooping it onto two fingers and standing back, cock limp and still hanging out.

"Stand up," he orders, voice so damn shaky it's embarrassing.

She gets to her feet slowly, wobbling on her legs, eyes wide and hair fucked. "You look so damn good, but there's something missin'…"

"What?" She breathes, chest heaving.

He crooks the two fingers covered in a glob of his cum and like a good little girl she steps forward, pressing close to him. He half smiles as he undoes her jean button with his free hand, yanking the flaps open so that she wobbles and nearly falls over before saving herself with her hands on his forearms. Shoving his cum slicked hand down her pants, he pushes past the silk of a thong hidden beneath her jeans and seeks out her pussy, gliding his dirty fingers all over her cunt, digging inside to her clit and sliding down until his fingers push deep into her.

Beth gasps, cheeks flooding a dirty crimson when her pussy flutters on his fingers.

"Now you're ready."

When she nods, he knows she was made for him.

* * *

"Daryl stop it," Beth hisses. "C'mon, enough!"

He digs his fingers in harder where they're pressed between her thighs. "Ain't you makin' the rules, girl. Quiet or the spankin' is gonna hurt later."

She bites her lip and runs her fork through her food. She glances at him with a tight, stern mouth but he stares her out and she turns back to her plate, lifting a forkful of cake to her mouth and transferring it onto her tongue. Pressing her knuckles to her lips to hide her chewing, he takes note of the rings on her fore and middle finger.

The sparkle under the lights of the fancy restaurant they've come to, nearly as bright as her goddamn eyes, which have shrunk again because she's a damn good actress but she can't hide her body's responses to him touching her under a table in a posh as shit food place. Her nipples have peaked against her t-shirt and her face is flushed with red.

She glances back at him as she scoops up another bite. "Ain't you gonna eat your dessert?"

"You wanna bend over the table or lie on it?"

She chokes on her cake, swallowing it quickly before reaching for her wine, gulping it down with watering eyes. "Keep your voice down!"

Her eyes swing around the surrounding booths and he has to dig his fingers into her inner thigh even harder to get her attention back. "You don't want no one to know hotshot CEO Beth Greene's fuckin' her assistant?"

"We ain't fuckin'," she denies and then backtracks quickly at the dark look gracing his face. "Technically."

"I've bin' fuckin' you in my head for months, not a problem that it only jus' got real."

She swallows and lays her fork against her plate. "You done?"

"You wanna go?"

She nods, clamping her thighs on his dancing fingers.

"Why?"

Beth whimpers before she catches her lower lip with her teeth. "Please, Daryl."

"Say why."

"What's the point?" She whispers desperately, staring at him with panicked eyes. "We both know what I want you to do."

"So say it," he pushes relentlessly, forcing her legs open with his fingers.

He sees her hands clench in the tablecloth and he just about catches his smirk.

"I wanna fuck you. Right now. You've been teasin' me since that fuckin' blowjob. I need you _now_."

He leans close to whisper in her ear, enjoying the shiver he sees roll down her shoulders. "You put on a good show, girl, but you ain't gonna deny how much you like sayin' it out loud."

She moans low, under her breath so only he can hear; so only he knows how wet she is. He pulls away and stares at her, wondering if he should drag it out more, make her near crazy with the need and then deliver her one of the most blissful orgasms she's ever had. He hasn't even started orgasm denial yet, he don't know how much she can take.

Finally, he nods and they stand to leave, his hand dropping from her thigh. After the payment's made -which was nearly an argument because he wouldn't let Beth pay and she was furious he managed to slide his card over the counter before her- they leave casually, calmly but where his hand is wrapped around hers, his thumb digging into her wrist, he feels how fast her pulse is.

They slide into Beth's hired town car, settling in the back and he does everything he can to act chill even though his cock is goddamn screaming for her pussy. She's worse at playing it down than he is, wiggling in her seat and uncrossing then recrossing her legs nearly four times over. The whole way he keeps his hand on her inner thigh, his thumb digging into the top of her leg and his fingers brushing her pussy. Every time he does it –accidentally, on purpose- she shudders and rolls her hips but he pulls his fingers away and clamps tighter on the muscle of her leg until she whimpers.

"Fuck me here," she whispers while she darts a nervous glance at the driver in the front seat, behind the glass partition.

"Why?" He whispers back.

She looks at him sharply, a street light cutting over her face as they pull up to a stop sign, people walking past the car with high voices and sharp heels.

"Why's it always twenty questions with you? Any other guy would run with invitations like that."

"I ain't any other guy."

Her eyes are serious and her mouth tight when she says, "m'startin' to see that."

"Good," he dismisses, turning back to face the front, hand still clenching her leg.

She growls in frustration. "What're you waitin' for me to say? I'll say it!"

"Ain't 'bout what I want you to say. S'bout admittin' what you want, givin' in to your desires."

"I want you."

"S'not the right answer, Greene."

She huffs in frustration and releases the tension in her hips, melting into the seat. Realising she's not gonna get anywhere with talking, she tries to entice him instead, reaching her ring clad fingers to his cock, her bracelet brushing the front of his pants. With his free hand, he pulls her away. If she wants to be fucked, she's only gotta give in to it.

"Why you bein' like this? Don't you wanna?"

"Frustratin' ain't it?"

She scowls and tries again but he clamps his hand on her wrist, trapping her. Beth fights him, jerking in her seat but he kicks her legs open and wraps his ankle around hers, pinning her. Huffing, she sinks back into the buttery leather seats and pouts out the window for the rest of the ride to the penthouse. While he's got her trapped, he gently strokes her leg where his hand rests, fingers brushing her swollen pussy lips through her jeans and teasing at her clit through the denim. Beth pants the whole time, a sweat collecting on her collar bones that he can see gleaming in the lights pouring through the car windows.

By the time they pull up, he knows he's got her. Her eyes are so huge they nearly absorb all the colour out of them, her hair shining golden and giving her the look of an avenging angel. His cock twitches in excitement as he climbs out the car, holding her hand the whole time and tugging her out after him. She's practically running when they cross the threshold and he deliberately yanks her to his side, like forcing an errant puppy not to tug the leash. She whines under her breath so only he can hear, reinforcing the puppy idea.

They wait in tense silence for the elevator and when it arrives, she nearly trips dragging him in. He already knows what's coming and the minute the doors slide shut she pounces on him, pushing him against the mirrored walls. He can see her all around, getting every delicious angle of her body. Her mouth presses to his desperately and his spine goes as hard as goddamn cement, realising that this is their first real kiss.

He moans at her wet heat, at her taste and it allows her the time to slip her hand down to his belt, yanking expertly on it so it strips out. Regaining some fucking sense, he grips her arms and pulls her to a stop, forcing her to look at him when he tears their mouth's apart.

"Why'd you wanna be fucked here, Beth?" He asks again.

He was right: he's got her hook, line and sinker.

"'Cause I wanna be caught. 'Cause I like the thought of gettin' caught. 'Cause I wanna be fucked against these mirrors with that camera recordin' us in the fuckin' corner," she says quickly, desperate and breathlessly as she tugs on his tie and bites at his lower lip.

"Good girl," he praises, releasing her arms to grab her face.

His hand slips around to her neck and he drags her up to kiss him, taking her mouth aggressively. She moans raggedly, her tongue pressing past his lips and licking along his own.

"God, you're such a good kisser," she breaks away to say, ducking down to kiss and suck his throat. "How are you so damn good at kissin'?" She asks, almost hysterically.

He laughs, stretching his arms back over the railing behind him and letting his head thunk against the mirror. Beth growls as she gets to the hollow of his throat. She's starting to take control but God, she's been so good, telling him the truth, admitting what she wants. It's the first step and he'll give into a little reward, so he don't stop her.

She looks up at him with hot eyes. "Hope you don't like this shirt too much," she says before she hooks her hands into his shirt and tears it.

Daryl grunts, heat spilling down his spine and exploding in his gut.

Crazy fucking bitch is all his.

"Long as you don't like this," he growls, hands tearing into her t-shirt.

The material splits and reveals her tits and ribs, their mouth's crashing back together as the elevator slides to a stop and they spill out of the opening doors, Beth's bag falling to her wrist and swinging against his legs.

"Key," he mutters against her lips and again when she doesn't stop kissing him, stretching in her heels to swipe her tongue over his teeth. " _Key_ , Beth!"

She growls, yanking at the strap of her bag and throwing it into his chest with force. He snatches the bag from her and digs past her purse and lipstick to the key, sliding it into the reader. As he presses on the handle, Beth's hands clamp on his shoulders and she jumps, knocking against his back.

He grunts and she laughs, hanging on for dear life when he stumbles before he reaches behind him and supports her by the ass. "You're fuckin' batshit crazy, girl."

She giggles and it's free, gleeful, makes his stomach ache that he made that sound. "God, I don't want this weekend to end."

He glances over his shoulder at her with serious eyes and her breath stutters to a halt, punctuated by the door clicking shut. "It don't have to."

Beth blows out a breath, clutching at him as she slides down his back, his hand tightening on her ass cheek and thigh to keep her up, neck craned around to look at her.

"You swear?" She whispers.

He dips his chin. "Swear."

She smirks at him, charging the atmosphere with lust in a heartbeat. "You wanttttt me," she sing-songs.

He growls at her and she squeals when he throws her over his shoulder onto the sofa. Landing with a small bounce, she rolls off onto her knees and gets to her feet, laughing as she runs for the bedroom. He gives chase because it excites the fucking life out of him, appealing to the cave man deep inside. Beth squeals like an excited kitten, kicking her shoes off on the way in and hastily pulling at her destroyed t-shirt so it hits the ground. He doesn't run after her even though he makes it apparent that he's following behind, tugging at his tie and discarding it nearly on top of her heels, his jacket coming off next to her t-shirt.

He can hear her excited pants in the bedroom and when he reaches the threshold, dropping his shirt to the cream carpeted floor, she's standing at the bottom of the bed in nothing but her thong. Daryl groans, his belt half undone by her already and leaving him no resistance when he pulls at his pants, toes off his shoes. Beth bites on her lip as she slides onto the bottom of his giant bed, spreading her thighs for him. He still doesn't move, watching as she gets more wound up and restless, the lamps on either side of the bed warming her skin and the wild look in her eye.

Daryl licks his lips and tries to narrow down what to do with her, so many ideas in his head his skin itches.

He distracts instead. "Why'd you come to my room?"

She frowns, obviously thrown by the question. "I dunno."

He hooks his thumb into the front of the only material he has on, teasing her with the line of hair that he's caught her staring at a couple times. Her breath hitches, her stomach clenching and unclenching, the bar in her belly button glinting in the lamp light.

"You do."

Beth swallows and moves on the bed, grinding her hips against the covers. "'Cause I wanted to?"

" _Why_?" He presses.

She whimpers and presses her hand between her legs, grinding the heel of her palm against her clit. Jesus Christ he don't know how he keeps a straight face when the visual makes his cock jump but he does. He tugs some more, giving her a peak of the glistening wet head of his hard dick.

She bites down on her lip and flaunts her body, rolling her hips against her hand. "'Cause I want your sheets to smell like me."

He smiles, yanking the last piece of clothing down and off his legs. "Good girl."

She makes a gurgling sound in her throat and spreads her legs, pulling her thong aside for him with a saucy smile, her cheeks and chest red, eyes wide and bright. "Look how wet I am."

He hums, stepping closer, his eyes pinned to her exposed, pink pussy shiny with juices. Fuck, is it even possible for her to be so damn wet? He ain't complaining, fuck no, not when he's picturing how nicely his cock is gonna slide into her. He swallows back the flood of saliva and takes her hand from her pussy, tugging her to her feet.

A sound of wretched disappointment spills out of her mouth and it makes him smile as he guides her to the mirror, the place he's been dying to get her to. She stands in front of it, facing the glass with a puzzled frown but she's good and she keeps still, letting him roll her thong down her thighs.

"Y'know you sent me out by myself last night?"

She nods, clearly distracted by this random line of conversation. He drags it on, keeping silent as he walks around to stand in front of her, kneeling down between her legs in front of the mirror.

"I saw you out there, on the sofa, in that little top you sleep in, an' I came in here, jerked off, thinkin' 'bout the 'swell of your tits."

Beth gasps, hands reaching down to clutch his shoulders, chest and belly trembling, the belly bar mesmering him. "That the firs' time you done it?" She whispers, breathless but curious.

He smiles as he reaches between his own kneeling legs and grips his cock, stroking leisurely so she can see. "Nah."

Another moan she tries to trap but doesn't, cheeks heating with embarrassment at the tortured sound.

"Jerked off in the shower, watched myself in the mirror. Same one I'm gonna fuck you 'front of in a minute."

She nods desperately, nails already digging into his shoulders as she stares down at him. "I fucked myself so hard after I saw you in the bathroom. So fuckin' hard, Daryl."

"Yeah?" He rasps against her pussy, nuzzling her inner thighs, hand still lightly pumping his cock. "Your fingers get you off, Greene?"

"No," she groans, the sound wrecked, her legs shaking every time he passes his stubble close to her cunt. "I got a dildo."

He hisses and dives straight into her pussy, his tongue parting her silky lower lips and striking gold, liquid bliss spilling into his mouth. Beth lets loose a surprised scream and from where he looks up between her legs, head buried between them, he sees her own head fall back, her throat and collarbones shining with sweat. Her mouth gapes open and he stares in pure fucking awe as his tongue digs down, riding her slit to her dripping hole, his hand squeezing his cock at the base to try and starve off the freight train of an orgasm gathering in his goddamn burning balls.

Her little hands still clench his shoulders tight when she finally cranes her neck down to look at him. Eyes wild, they ping back and forth between his face, his hand working his dick and the mirror. The mirror's her favourite sight though because she keeps going back to it. He groans into her cunt, his face soaked and lips sucking on her clit, goddamn jealous that he can't look in the mirror and see what she sees. He bets it's fucking magical, though he's more than happy with his view down here.

One hand stays on his shoulder and another moves to his hair, fingers sinking into it and rings catching in the strands as she angles his head exactly how she wants it, hips desperately humping his face as her chest floods cherry red. Daryl smirks into her bare, moist flesh, feeling how fucking wet she is, the tremors in her thighs and knowing she's seconds away from cumming. He wants it so goddamn bad and he has to let go of his dick before he busts his load all over his knuckles. With both hands free, he cups her ass to bring her even closer, goddamn smothering him.

She starts moaning in a loop, each one getting higher and more drawn out, ass clenching in his hand before she suddenly lets loose a deep, hoarse scream wrapped up in his name. "Daryl! Yes, oh God, yes! Oh, Jesus. Right there, right _there_."

He opens his mouth wide and swipes his tongue around her entrance before he slides down the crack and forcefully shoves his tongue into her asshole, her pussy completely drenching his nose and cheeks. He grunts in surprise when Beth's upper body collapses, her hands catching against the mirror with a loud clatter. He just about manages to grip her thighs and keep her upright, her legs shaking so much it's a damn effort. Cum spills all down her thighs in a river, droplets down to her knees that he licks all the way back up to her cunt.

Beth murmurs with no real thought and Daryl shoves to his feet, surprised she don't even cry out in surprise when he swings her over his shoulder. She's completely pliant and he laughs as he bands his forearm over the backs of her knees, holding them to his shoulder, her upper body hanging over his back and head swinging against his hips, hair brushing his skin.

"Y'alright back there, Greene?"

Fucking hell, he's teasing her. Woman's completely changed his whole fucking personality.

"Dead," she says simply, loosely. "Just go on without me, I'll only slow you down."

He laughs again heartedly, jerking her about. "What bullshit you sayin' now?"

"I dunno," she answers with a little more life to it. "You may 'swell fucked my damn brain out."

"No can do," he says as he bends to the bath tub and turns the taps. "But your ass is next, girl."

She groans. "I'm tryin'a get over this heart attack, don't go givin' me 'nother."

He hums, setting the plug and squirting in the fancy bubble bath on the side. "Ain't no more heart attacks comin', jus' a bath."

"Can I stand straight then? I feel dizzy."

Pulling her over his shoulder, he sets her back on her feet. "Stand there an' look pretty."

She nods, still a little glassy eyed as she turns and hefts herself up onto the counter, his eyes looking at her back and ass in the mirror. She's got a body that makes men goddamn sin. Her legs swing as she hums to herself, eyes staring at his raging hard cock.

"You gonna take care of that?"

He straightens from running the bath and turns to her, stepping between her thighs that he's more than happy to notice part automatically for him. "Nah, 'cause you're gonna."

Damn, he ain't never gonna get tired of seeing that spark of heat in her eyes.

She licks her lips and slides to the end of the marble counter, her sweaty skin squeaking against it. "Lemme suck you off 'gain."

Daryl smirks. "Like that, huh?"

She nods enthusiastically and then gasps dramatically as he grips her hips and flips her. There's a ringing slap when her hands catch against the surface, his own splayed her across her lower back, foot kicking her legs apart. He doesn't even tease her, just shoves his cock straight through her tight walls, having paved the way with his mouth and her cum.

"God!" She grunts, hand reaching up and smacking against the mirror, the other propping her up.

Daryl hums as he digs his hands under her, his fingers cupping her ribs and gripping tight as he pulls all the way out and slams into her again, just to hear her throaty cry and to see her going up on her toes, her head brushing the glass. He sets a punishing pace, unable to go slow when she's so fucking wet. His balls bounce against her clit, their skin slapping together and the hairs of his legs clumping with the cum all over her inner thighs. His fingers clench her hard and he fucks her extra deep at the thought of the bruises he'll leave in the shape of his fingerprints all over her skin.

"Daryl, _fuck_ … the tub!"

"Watch it then," he grunts, balls deep in her cunt for a solid second.

He grinds the backs of his teeth as she clenches on his cock.

 _"_ _What_?"

"Watch it. Get's too high an' you're gettin' a damn spankin'."

"What the fuck," she mutters on a high moan.

He digs his fingers into her until she jumps. "Now, Beth."

She pants against the mirror, leaving fogs of her breath and glances quickly at the bathtub before glancing up at him. She must like what she sees because her lips part and her eyes dip down to his stomach, gazing hungry at his chest and biceps, nails grabbing against the mirror the way they did the window.

Daryl groans deep and low, almost wounded when he pushes into her again, bending his knees and churning his hips so he can massage her inner pussy. Her walls flutter and she cries out, eyes screwing shut and head hanging down as her fingers keep clenching against the smooth surface she's never going to get a grip on.

"I make you feel outta control, Greene?"

" _Yes_ ," she pants. "Unh. All the –fuck- damn time! God, don't stop."

"Gonna cum?"

"'Course I'm gonna fuckin' cum, you fuck like the devil!"

He bends over her body, whispering in her ear. "I am the fuckin' devil."

Beth screams when his teeth latch into her shoulder, no mercy for her skin when he bites down hard into her soft flesh, sinking his cock so deep she throws her arm back and pushes into his chest, high on her toes; trying to shove him back out. He grumbles deep in his belly as his balls draw up tight, cum spilling hot and thick into her quivering cunt. His dick pops out on the last spurt, spraying across her lower back and dripping down onto her ass. His throat is tight and squeezes a grotesque sound out as he slides down the crack of her ass and pushes the head of his cock against her asshole.

At the exact same moment she pushes back and it pops in. She makes a sound truly ungodly, a sound that should be recorded and captured, stored away from every man in the world because it makes them want to take their damn dick off because it hurts so fucking bad how hard another spray of cum bursts out of him, arching high and landing across the sharp points of her shoulders. He falls back, just about capturing Beth as she falls too, his hip hitting the bath with a hiss. They slide down, him to his ass and her to his lap, every muscle in his body locked up in excruciating pleasure.

His legs are fucking gone, he ain't never walking again.

She moans in his arms, turning her face into his neck. "I told you not to give me 'nother damn heart attack, Dixon. How the hell m'I ever gonna walk 'gain?"

"When you work it out, lemme know."

She laughs and sits up , he opens his eyes again to see her as she clambers to her feet. "C'mon, bath's ready."

He pushes to his own feet some fucking way and climbs in, holding his legs open so Beth can get in. When she does, she turns and lies back against him, pressed to his chest with the hot water running over them.

She hums as she snuggles down into his chest. "Might fall 'sleep."

"Ain't no might 'bout it," he hums, eyes slipping closed. She laughs and grinds her ass against his cock. He groans, "you ain't had 'nough?"

"Not yet."

He opens his eyes and grins.


End file.
